Yesterday, I missed you
by Hopless-case
Summary: Warning: Character Death. Stand Alone short fic. Go read it.


Title: Yesterday, I Missed You  
  
Warning: Character Death.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Yesterday, I got a phone call. Yesterday, they called me down to the morgue to identify a body. Yesterday, a lot of bad things happened, because they could only find my name, they only found a picture of me with you, in your pocket, my name on the back. I can't help but wonder why that was with you, what happened to you, your beautiful being.  
  
I remember waking up, the phone ringing loudly on the side table next to me, making my dreams disappear. They said they needed me to come down to identify a body, because my picture was found with it. They wouldn't tell me anything else, only that I had to come now, so they could notify the family, or maybe that I was the family. A million thoughts raced through my head as I pulled on jeans, a shirt, and a jacket. I almost had tears in my eyes when I started my car, and pulled out onto the road. I thought it could have been anyone – but never you. I never thought it would have been you, because I couldn't see you being hurt. To me, you were invincible, nothing touched you. Yet yesterday, I found out that I was wrong.  
  
I'd been to the morgue before, I'd seen dead bodies, I'd been back there. The feeling I felt then though, it was different. This time I was the one who had to give someone a name, a place of belonging. I can still see your face, your body on the cold metal table. They pulled back the curtain, and I saw your body laying on it's back. You looked so peaceful, like you'd meant to die. Maybe they distorted your features so I wouldn't see your pain – they said you had been shot. I longed to reach out, to grab you and shake you by your shoulders until you woke up. I wanted you to come back to life, so tomorrow we could go back out on patrol – we could bitch at each other, eat lunch at the taco joint on Arthur. Only, you didn't move. You're body was still, and my jaw opened a little, the pain that I knew you apparent on my face. I felt the tears running down my face and heard my own voice saying that it couldn't be true before I even knew I was crying. Someone touched my shoulder, lead me to a chair. They looked me in the eye, asked me to identify you.  
  
The doctor called your family, told them that you were never going to go home again. I can only imagine how much pain they felt when the doctor told them you were gone. My heart was dead, my soul corrupted by the time they got there. I was sitting in the hall, outside of the morgue, my head in my hands. I looked up when I heard their footsteps, coming to say goodbye.  
  
And in my hand, I held the picture that was with you. It wasn't of them, your husband, your kids, it was of me. I stood up, your daughter coming over to hug me, crying into my shoulder, and I wonder when she got so big. Your husband looks at me, the life drawn out of him, and I can only look down, and pull something out of my pocket. I pull out a picture of them, all of them, you and your whole family, and hand it to Fred. I tell him that you had that with you, and I see him crying.  
  
Today, I'm dressed for your funeral – the plans made the night within hours of your family's arrival. They wanted to get it over with, the precinct too. It was going to be done quickly, the silent promise to find your enemy in everyone's mind.  
  
Beside me, Emily is hanging on my arm, her eyes red and puffy. Charlie is with Fred, in his arms, his face dry. Your friends are looking at you in the casket, the one I can't come within ten feet of without feeling the bile in the back of my throat. Your brother comes in, and Emily runs to him like he's you, holding onto him like she'll never let go. Fred comes over to me, and shakes my hand. I've never shaken his hand before, never really had a civil conversation with him. I've never seen him looking so helpless, so defenseless.  
  
"What you did...you didn't have too." "I didn't do anything." I tell him, looking at the ground.  
  
"The picture. You had it with you. The doctor...he...he said she had a picture of you with her."  
  
"He lied." I shake my head, and meet his gaze.  
  
I know he can call my lie, but he doesn't. He only nods, wanting to think that I told him the truth, that your last dying thought was of them. Something that he doesn't even believe now, but that he'll tell himself and your kids is true.  
  
I can't stay here anymore, the smell, the people, the emotion. It's all sadness and death in here – I can't deal with that. I can't face the world without you, let alone face the fact that you are gone. When I leave, I can feel the tears starting again and I quickly wipe them away, pulling the picture you had on you out of my pocket. I make it out to the parking lot before I'm literally shaking with sobs. I tear the picture up, carrying the reason for your death on my shoulders. I told you not to go, I told you to leave it alone, and I told you that it didn't matter to me anymore. I'm the reason you died, and I can't even look at you anymore. Not even in my clouded mind.  
  
The picture in pieces I toss it to the ground, falling to the ground, my knees brought up to my chest. I bury my head in my hands, the tears flowing constantly, my heart aching for you. I loved you, and I still do, my brain not accepting the fact that you could ever be gone.  
  
Two days ago, I made love to you. Two days ago, you whispered that you truly loved me, more than anything in the world. Two days ago, a perp caught up making out in the squad. Hours later, we found him selling drugs to kids, and arrested him. Only on the way to the precinct, he told us what he knew, that he'd seen us. Fear for each other, our jobs, it scared us. It was stupid, and thinking back on it, I can't even figure out why we did it. But we let him go. Only to find out that he was the one who set a fire in an apartment building hours earlier where two kids had died. You felt guilty, said you were going to go find him, that you knew where he'd be. I told you not too, that it wasn't worth it, but you told me not to worry, a smile on your face. You kissed me goodbye, and I watched you go. I would miss you in my arms that night.  
  
Yesterday, I got a call. Yesterday, I cried a million tears for you, and wished that you could come back to me; I'd give my life for yours. I wished that I could hold you in my arms and never let you go. Yesterday, I missed you, today, and until I see you again. 


End file.
